Still in the Dark
by binaryfizz
Summary: Things were quiet, until Dizzy went missing...
1. Default Chapter

The orange rays that climbed over the horizon were, at best, unwelcome. Everything they touched was gray—the clouds, the rocks, the soil, all desolately colorless safe for that one speck of red. It belonged to a lone man who stood, cross armed, at the top of a small mound. Except for the brown pony tail that flowed freely with the wind, everything about the man was solidly still, from the firm outline of his buff build to the heavy-looking red shoes that were firmly planted in the ground. Nothing moved; even the sword that jutted from the ground near him showed no quivering against the wasteland winds.

Sol slowly opened his eyes.

_Another day._

For as long as he had lived, Sol tried to watch the sunrise as often as he could. Even though everyday was predictably monotonous, the beginning always captivates him. What is it about sunrises? He's had quite a few decades to ponder this question, yet he has yet to come up with a satisfactory answer. Was it because it burns relentlessly while everything around it is cold and void of meaning? Was it because it brought dazzling colors to a devastated world? Was it because it was round?

_Tch, round? Nice one._

In what seemed to be his first significant movement, Sol heaved his chest. It was time to get going. As he pulled Fireseal out of the ground and turned to leave, his eyes caught something in the distance.

_Hmm?_

In the vast plains that stretched before him, something, no, someone, seemed to be running.

_Why not._

Slowly, he turned his body back toward the east and resumed the position he held before. Using his enhanced gear vision, Sol had no trouble recognizing the woman. Her robe was sporting a few more torn edges than when he had last seen it, and it appeared not as white as he remembered. However, the mark on her forehead, the determined look in her eye, the way she held her sword ready by her side, were all unmistakable.

Knowing that Baiken is not the one to run away from battle, Sol scanned ahead in the direction Baiken faced. A group of six men, with swords drawn, were running toward her, leaving a cloud of dust in their trail.

By the time he finished his calculations, Sol had blinked twice.

_28 seconds? Get it on already. _

As he mentally counted down, he watched the two opposing forces draw nearer and nearer toward each other.

3

2

1

In Sol's eyes, two blades clashed soundlessly. Baiken had easily parried the first man's blow with her half drawn sword. The man had over extended himself, and Baiken made sure the sharp edge of her steel met his unprotected neck as it was unsheathed in an upward swing. The man's body, still carrying momentum, rolled along the ground to a senseless slump, leaving a trial of red in its wake. The rest did not seem intimidated by the first man's fate. As they started to form a ring around Baiken, a second one on Baiken's right jumped in with an overhead slash, doubtless thinking he was in her blind spot. A quick stab to the midsection proved him mistaken. Seeing that individual strategies prove fatal, three men advanced at the same time. Swiftly planting her sword into the ground, Baiken directed her hand, open palmed, toward the three. With a few movements of her lip, a ball of energy exploded from her palm and launched the three high into the air. As they came down, they found her blade waiting. The last of the group was frightened out of his wits, evident from his desperate run for his life. Out of Baiken's right sleeve flew a chained claw. It tore into the man's sides and dragged him back by his flesh. As soon as he was within striking distance, Baiken kicked his legs out from under him and pinned him down with one knee. With her free hand, she drew her blade and plunged it into the man's heart. With a squirt of blood, the victim ceased struggling. Baiken pulled her sword out as she stood up, and kicked the corpse away like an insignificant sack of straw.

As if sensing something, she turned her head in Sol's direction. For a moment, the two stood, a plain apart and blades in their hands. Suddenly, Baiken held out her sword and made a flurry of slashes in the air. The movement was so quick that, from the distance, all Sol could catch were glimmers of light occasionally reflected by the blade.

_tch..._

The sheer speed of the blade's movements had shaken every drop of blood off its edge. Baiken returned the clean sword into its sheath, sat down among the bodies, and took out her pipe.

Sol popped his neck, a bored look on his face. It was time to leave.

Nothing about the town ever changes. It's always been the same smell, the same view, the same beggars. Yes, the beggars. Even when they don't have much they cling to life. Is living really worth all this suffering? The mortals before Sol are miserable creatures, yet the immortal who walks among them has not himself smiled out of happiness for the past century.

_Funny..._

"Hold it right there."

Sol slowed down the pace of his strides. He knew who the voice belongs to; and there was no point in stopping.

"I said stop, Sol."

_Why?_

The air suddenly felt electrified. The crackling of energy sounded distinctly alive.

Sol stopped, and turned his head just enough to give Ky Kiske a lazy gaze out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't surprised to see that the police man had readied himself in combat stance.

_It's too early in the morning._

"You're coming with me, Sol, one way or another."

_I don't know where he gets that confidence._

"Dizzy has been kidnapped, and you are the prime suspect."

That got Sol's attention. He turned fully around.

"What?"

"I said Dizzy's missing, and we suspect you had something to do with it."

"When?"

"When? Stop pretending Badguy, tell me where she is."

"I asked you a question."

"Just as I thought, looks like I'm going to have to do this by force."

_What a pain in the ass._

Ky brought Thunderseal over his left shoulder and charged toward his target. Rotating his left arm, Sol positioned Fireseal before him to block. As the blades neared each other, bystanders scrambled to safety.

_Hmm?_

Suddenly, a cloud of opaque, white vapor materialized.

_Thunderseal? No, it can't be._

Sol took a few steps back, readying himself for fortress defense.

Ky's blow, however, never came. As a matter of fact, the knight himself had stopped before the curtain of vapor, fearing a trap.

"Don't try to escape, Sol. Face me!"

As the mist lifted, both combatants saw a familiar, black clad figure.

Sol frowned, mentally kicking himself for putting up fortress defense for such a cheap trick.

_Bastard._

The pirate was his usual self, katana in his left hand and the tip of his hat in his right. A breeze was dramatically lifting his cloak.

Sol started to turn around.

"Hold on a minute. Sorry to break up your fight, but I wanted some questions answered before you tear each other to shreds."

_Tch, get lost._

Nevertheless, curious as to why the pirate paid him a visit, Sol turned his head to listen.

"Pirate! Stand aside, I'm going to arrest this man, then you're going to have some explaining to do yourself."

"Haha, officer, if it wasn't urgent I wouldn't have bothered you. I will gladly turn myself in if you can lend me your help in this matter. Dizzy went missing a few days ago, and soon after, my crew disappeared as well. So I was just wondering if either of you has seen a little girl with an anchor around."

"A little girl with an anchor? I don't think..."

"East."

Both turned to Sol.

"She went east."

Sol wasn't sure why he bothered to speak, maybe it was to get the stupid pirate out of his sight.

"Ah, thank you, I appreciate it. And for your troubles gentleman..."

With a smile and a quick flick of his thumb, Johnny tossed two glittering coins toward the pair.

Sol grabbed the one aimed toward him with his right hand. He looked down and gazed at the glaring gray spot on the back of the coin.

_Tch, the damned bastard didn't even bother to fake it right._

"Ow."

Apparently Ky caught his with his face.

In another screen of vapor, Johnny disappeared.

"Wait, you said you'd turn your..."

_Fool._

Dizzy is very attached to Johnny's crew. If she's missing, they would do anything to get her back. That means with the diligence and effort of an entire crew, they would most likely have better info and sense of where she is than a bored, indifferent man.

_Why didn't I think of that before. East it is._

"Wait!"

Sol stopped.

"Where are you going?"

_Rite...him_.

Sol turned to an obviously abandoned building to his right and trusted Fireseal into the ground. A geyser of flame erupted into the walls, immediately setting the structure on fire.

"What...that's....hey!"

Sol was already walking away, he knew Ky can't stand watching his town burn.

"When I put out this fire I'm coming after you Sol! And I'm adding arson onto your charges!"

Sol smirked.


	2. Awakening

**It has been too long...** **Where are you?**

"Please...please don't hurt me."

_**No, don't worry my dear, I will find you.**_

"I...I'm un-unarmed."

**My dear...**

"I...I have a f-f-family."

_**They will pay.**_

"Please...please!"

_**I promise you**._

"No...no...no..."

****Beep** Download Complete**

**My...Sylvia...**

Sol walked quietly, his eyes hidden under tufts of dark brown hair.

East 

Even the broad blade balanced upon his left shoulder could not boast of a width superior to the size of Sol's massive deltoids.

Yet nothing about him seemed excessive; no muscles moved except those required to perform the necessary functions. And as of the moment, the required function was walking.

_I should run._

Tch...what a bother. 

If he felt anxious, Sol did not show it. Every stride was equally measured, and the expression on his face was as remote as the gray horizon stretched before him.

You're going to miss her. Run dammit! 

Sol did not break his stride.

Indifference, perhaps that was it. For someone as old as Sol, the world simply ceased to be impressive. Excitement is not the first mental response when everything that happens has been witnessed already.

But this is the second time, the second time in your life! 

Sol knew that, but what tugs at his heart was still not excitement. The tingling in his legs was the urging of anxiety. The rigidity in his frame was the breath of sorrow. The dampness in his palm was the touch of anticipation. And the heat in his chest was the roar of wrath.

_It's been too long._

And for the first time in the past few days, Sol realized something.

_I need this._

The small city was typical at best, and filthy on average. How and when he walked through the gates Sol does not remember. He has set a direction for himself, and has followed it in unbreakable strides. It did not matter what or even who stood in the way.

Sol did not need to communicate that message. The relentless rhythm of his steps sounded his approach, and the dominating size of his shadow announced his arrival. The beggars and peddles of the streets have seen enough in their life to know trouble by sight, and they followed their instincts and stayed out of Sol's way.

Well, almost all.

As rigidly forward as he seemed to have held the direction of his gaze, Sol has been taking note of those around him. This was what he was trained to do—to instinctively know his surrounding without showing any apparent effort in the process. Among all the people he jotted down in his mind, Sol did not miss her.

A peddler? Hmm...young... 

The little girl, holding an old basket, looked 12, but was wearing adjusted overalls that, in their original cut, could comfortably fit an adult man. The cuts and patches were clearly done by an amateur; a part of the cut, shortened, and re-sewn strap was already coming apart.

_Tch...bet she's wearing daddy's will._

Sometimes Sol shocks even himself with his pessimism.

Even so, he did not slow down his approach toward the little girl.

_Move._

Sol mentally dictated, hoping that his unaffected approach would motivate the girl to step aside.

She did not. Instead, she moved even close to the middle of the road.

As Sol shortened the distance between himself and the girl, he realized that he could squeeze past her.

Tch 

That was not his style.

"Ex..xcuse me, m..mister"

The girl stuttered before Sol came to a complete stop.

She held the basket out in front of her, showing her white, skinny fingers. Her large, blue eyes did not move from sol's face and quivered slightly underneath her pairs of long, black lashes. She did not blink. She could not blink. Her lips trembled as she struggled to finish her sentence, but no part of her body was helping in the effort. From the grayish strip of cloth that pulled back her blue hair to the brown ropes that tied layers after layers of old newspaper around her feet, nothing was still. The girl was quivering from head to toe.

She was afraid. She was deathly afraid. Who knows how many times she has been beaten; who knows how long she has starved. Yet here she stands, trembling before a man more dangerous looking than any she's ever seen, when all she had to do was stay quietly in her alley.

...

She had nothing more to lose.

From behind the curtain of hair, Sol looked into the girl's eyes. She stood before him, cold, hungry, and scared. Yet it was he who could not show his eyes. He feared that he would...

"F....flowers? Puh...Please?"

...

It was all the strength the girl could muster. She did not even have enough left to lift the gray cloth covering the basket to show Sol the flowers. She has pushed her small body to its physical limit, and now she stood before Sol, trembling, and silently awaiting the blow.

Sol let Fireseal fall unceremoniously to the ground.

The great sword made such a racket that both were jolted to their senses.

That was close 

Sol slowly retracted his hands. He reached into his back pocket. He knew that all eyes were upon him, and he did not open his large fist to reveal that he had pulled out a large wad of bills. Pretending to look at the flowers, Sol lifted the gray cloth. A small bundle of withered lilies lied tenderly placed among a carpet of brown, dead grass.

The girl would not find fresh green blades in this wasteland and god knows how long and how big of a miracle it took for her to find those dead lilies, but with what she finally found, she tried to make it pretty.

It was hauntingly beautiful.

Sol reached inside, carefully putting the bills near a corner as not to disturb this pretty grave. The little girl looked down, then up, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips and tears forming in her eyes. She was still trembling too hard to bring herself to rejoice.

Sol pulled back the cover of the basket.

"No."

He almost choked on the word. He wanted to make it loud enough for everyone to hear, but still gentle enough to tell the girl that she had touched him.

She touched him.

Sol quickly picked up his sword and walked away. It was all he could do to control his emotions.

_She looked like her. Those eyes...those same beautiful, blue eyes_.

For that one moment Sol lived the past, when he used to hold her, when he used to love her. He had wanted to reach for her. He wanted to hug her close to his chest. He wanted to warm her with the heat of his body. He wanted to caress her hair. He wanted to feel her warm breath upon his skin and comfort her. He wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes and tell her that everything will be fine, that daddy will protect her.

He wanted to feel alive again.

No...it's not her... 

Sol had fallen back into his regular strides.

Behind him, the little girl did not move from her spot. Her moist eyes quietly followed this mysterious man, and her lips, though still trembling, whispered,

"Thank you..."

_I need this._

Sol had lost count of how many times he's been telling himself this, but ever since he left that little girl it's all he could think about—her. He realized, after coming so close to holding girl, how much he missed her.

Tch 

He did not quite understand why. After so many years, he thought he would never feel the same again.

It happened so many years ago, when he became a gear, and memories of her precede even that.

For the longest time Sol thought he had died and lived again. It was necessary, he was told, to rid himself of all attachments if he were to accomplish his task.

No, he was coaxed.

No, he was promised.

It was driving him insane and he wanted to run away from it. He could not stand the pain of living without her. Ever since that day, when she disappeared from his life, he wished he could follow her, even to hell.

But he did not know if she really died, and he did not want to die knowing that it was still possible to see her again. All he wanted to do was to look for her, to find her. But he needed to get away from the pain; he needed to keep it from breaking his concentration.

And that Man gave him the solution.

He wanted to believe that Man, and he did believe that Man. He allowed himself to be turned into what he is today because, he was promised, a gear was much stronger and a gear would not cry.

Now Sol realized that it was all a lie. Something had awakened in him today, and as much as he did not want to feel it, he embraced it desperately, as if he had found a part of what he was looking for.

He would've never passed a police station had it not been in his desired path.

They all looked the same, bleached walls and flat roofs. Sol did not want to think about the overcrowded jail cells or mega-computes that occupied the spaces between the sparse, narrow windows.

_Boy scout's camping ground_.

Sol fought back a chuckle.

He has almost forgotten how it feels to chuckle.

As Sol walked past the front gates he lazily gazed inside, anticipating a glimpse of that over-enthusiastic fool laboring over paperwork.

He was greeted by an empty, red wall.

Hmm, guess he's not... Dammit! 

Sol's mental curse was barely completed before he bolted inside. Those stiff-neck knights always painted their walls white, not red....with blood.

Sol looked under the desk, not surprised by the body.

He had barely examined the corpse before the realization hit him.

No... 

Was it his imagination or did he feel a little uneasy?

It can't be... 

The marks on the body, the wounds, the gashes, were all unmistakable. Sol knew who did this.

A shadow slithered towards Sol's heels.

"...?!"

With a quick flick of his wrist, Sol held Fireseal ready by his left side while his right hand swiftly struck out. It almost caught the man by surprise and would have hit him squarely in the face had he not possessed senses superior to sight.

Zato caught Sol's fist with an open palm and stopped it centimeters from the bridge of his nose.

"I did not mean to attack you."

"..."

"But of course I understand if you do not trust me. I apologize for the intrusion."

Sol retracted his arm as Zato loosened his grip.

"What are you doing here?" Sol said though clenched teeth.

Detecting no tone of accusation in Sol's voice, Zato smiled.

"Well, being the poor blind man that I am I thought I'd stop to ask for some directions."

Sol did not smile.

"Answer it."

Zato's face suddenly became completely serious.

"Why are _you_ here?"

"Tch..."  
Sol knew he was wasting his time. He didn't want anything from Zato, although the presence of the shadow man did arouse his curiosity, nothing more. Should Zato try anything else Sol would make sure that he'd live just long enough to regret his decision.

But why? 

There was no doubt to Sol as to who the murderer was, but what burns in his mind is the motivation. Yet somehow, his instincts were telling him that the motivation is no more different than his own.

But that means... 

A gust of wind blew through the door.

Sol and Zato directed their attention toward the figure clearly outlined against the bright rectangular doorway.

"Lord have mercy..."

Sol was already getting ready to leave.

"You! This time I caught you red handed! You and your accomplice. You will both pay for the crime you have committed on this day!."

_Tch...he's actually mad._

Ky raised Thunderseal above his shoulders. Intensely blue sparks of light coursed through the blade. Sol didn't see any easy way out of this fight.

"Badguy! Take THIS!"

Note:

That one review I got really helped motivate me to write another chapter. I used to read other authors' notes and notice how they always want people to comment, and now I realize how important comments can really be. So please, if you found it worth your while, comment. I've left a lot of loose ends, and if you want to know what happens next, please help motivate me to write more and write better.

Any and all constructive comments will be greatly appreciated.

Thank you.


	3. Old and New

Sol felt that one.

Ky's fury has become as merciless as the blue blade that danced before Sol's eyes. Anger builds upon the momentum of its own destruction, and Sol has come to realize such a lesson first hand as he parried the knight's blows, feeling his opponent's strength gaining, instead of waning, as the battle continued.

"YOU…"

Ky's shout as he charged over a pile of broken chairs was as much a condemnation as it was a battle cry.

"…will NOT…"

Thunderseal traced a glorious arc of lightening as Ky vaulted himself into a somersault, using the great sword as the weight to his rotation and brining it upon Sol with the full force of his fall.

Windows shattered as Fireseal roared its retort. The raging blades met as they halted, almost instantaneously, each other's intended path. The energy that had accelerated in their wake, having no option forward after meeting immediate and undeniable resistance, stormed chaotically around the deadlocked pair, flinging, with a hurricane's mercy, the debris of battle.

Sol left no opportunity to waste as he trialed his flaming right fist upwards, intending to catch the airborne knight, who has yet to land, in his moment of recovery. The knight's maneuver, however, came as swift and surprising as the words that he uttered.

"be FORGIVEN!"

With the final word of his judgment delivered, Ky exploded into his last assault. Tucking his feet to his stomach, the knight evaded Sol's uppercut and landed sliding into Sol's legs.

"!"

The combined force of his uppercut and Ky's slide robbed Sol of his footing and launched him boot-first into the air. To an inexperienced warrior, Ky's follow-up slash would have meant a severance of life. Sol, however, was more than a seasoned veteran, and had his eyes fixed upon Thunderseal the moment it slipped away from Fireseal's edge.

The clash confirmed Sol's prediction. Thunderseal hissed against the familiar red blade as it was stopped inches before Sol's head. In the brilliant spark of the clash, Ky shot an angry glare at Sol, and was met with Sol's usual gaze of boredom.

The battle was over. Even with the best of his efforts, Ky could not engage Sol for more than mere moments. The impossible man had already wondered outside the realm of battle, pitting his thoughts to concerns that lie miles beyond the wastelands.

As Sol brought his feet high above his head, he rejected Thunderseal's engagement with barely a twist of his blade. The wildly compromised bandit revolver was more of a mid-air cartwheel than an attack. With a slight thud, Sol landed solidly on his feet, Fireseal by his side. Barely pausing, he turned around and began walking away.

Ky's sinking feeling of disappointment turned into incredulity. Anger over the futility of his attack and disbelief toward Sol's actions culminated in a throaty shout.

"Wait!"

_Tch_

Sol did not slow down. He knew that the knight had overextended himself and was exhausted with his own efforts.

Thud.

Ky's legs betrayed his will to continue the fight. As the knight tried to stand up, he found himself immediately seated back on the floor.

"Dammit…"

"It appears that he will not kill you."

The shadow man had been able to hide himself with ease during the intense conflict. Now that the resolution was clear, the quiet spectator emerged from the shadows.

"Stay where you are!"

Ky shot back with a glare.

However, Zato had little concern for wishes that were not his own. Occupied with their strife, neither of the dueling pair had so far pressed him for his objectives, and, in the current state, both seemed bent on their own pursuits. As easily as he had avoided becoming the center of attention, the dark assassin was again left to his own designs.

That suited him just fine.

Tilting his head slightly in what may be the definitive expression of sightless curiosity, the shadow man slowly melted away into the somber obscurity of the empty building. As a final farewell, Zato turned up the corners of his mouth in a mischievous smirk; and then, there was silence.

Ky let out a long sigh. It seemed that everyone but himself had accomplished what they came here to do. Frustration, anger, hatred, and confusion stormed his mind as he stared at the blade in his hand. But the steel, flawlessly crafted, reflected only the questioning eyes of the knight, and offered no answers.

Gently, Ky set the blade down, and leaned back to surrender himself to the exhaustion that he had fought to control. Like a wave, the stress of battle washed over his frame, sending pockets of pain exploding within his tense muscles.

"Gah!"

The knight winced as he tried to shift his weight. It was clear that he needed treatment. Holding Thunderseal upright, Ky plunged it into the ground. Using the grounded sword as a make-shift staff, he slowly pulled himself up and surveyed his surroundings.

That's when he noticed it.

Not all the computers have been destroyed in the battle, and, in a corner near where the dead man lay, a monitor was blinking an urgent message. As fast as he could, Ky hobbled over to the station. Wiping the grime of dust and blood off parts of the screen, the knight was able to clearly make out what he suspected he saw.

"Classified File #143-Download Complete."

Fumbling over a mess of wires and equipment, Ky yanked open the Portable Memory Port, only to find the PMP disc missing.

"!"

Tapping on the keys, Ky found, to his relief, that the control panel was still responsive. Working with the deftness of an intelligence officer, he quickly traced through layers of digital archive bureaucracy and was awarded finally with the message:

"Classified File #143 Access Authorized-View?"

Looking down at the keyboard, Ky made sure his finger rested on the letter "Y," and made the single tap.

"Wha…"

It was all he could utter upon seeing the screen that stretched beyond the bounds of his imagination.

It appears that nothing is spared from Sol's strength. Even the moon light, the silent serenade of peaceful nights and still waters, becomes a chilling reminder of unassailable might as it reflected off the chiseled lines of Sol's body, giving the features an even sharper definition against the dark of night.

It had occurred to Sol that his nights had not always been spent alone.

Tentatively, Sol loosened the buckles behind his head, and let his headpiece slip into his hands. Holding the battered plate against the light, his eyes traced slowly over the dented and chipped surface, taking the time to remember how he had obtained each one. When he reached the rough letters, he stopped.

Feeling every ridge and valley, Sol let his finger slowly slide across the letters. The words that they spell out he knows all too well, and the memories they bring back were all too familiar.

"What is that?"

She always looked cute with a frown. It had often occurred to Sol that she would look very nice in a breezy summer dress, but the simple tank top and baggy military pants she sported on a daily basis gave her an undeniable aura of confident attractiveness. She tried to impress no one, but it is exactly her simplicity that was so addictive. A woman independent of others' judgment and at ease with her own decisions was exactly the captivator of many a longing heart. As usual was how she dressed that day, standing before Sol, hands planted firmly upon her hips, her head cocked slightly to the side, eyes gazing the object of question.

"My headband."

She did not smile back.

"It's just a chunk of metal."

Sol always loved her habit of pointing out the obvious.

"That's the point. It'll protect my head."

"And what is that…Rock You?"

Her frown deepened.

"You carved that yourself."

"How can you tell?"

"It's so ugly."

Sol chuckled.

"So I guess you don't like it."

"Nope."

Taking a deep breath, Sol turned his head away.

"Well, that's too bad."

Her disapproving eyes shot back a definite glare.

"It's not like it matters. You're too short to kiss my forehead anyways."

"Hey!"

She landed a solid kick on Sol's shin.

"Just kidding!"

"Hmph! You know I like your forehead."

Sol admitted with a grin.

"Exactly, that's why I'm protecting it. You don't want to see scars on my forehead, right?"

"Pffffff"

She looked even cuter with a pout.

"Come here you pretty thing."

Sol leaned forward to wrap his arms around her.

"Ai..."

She gave a slight yelp as one of his hands landed a few inches south of her waistline.

"Hey…!"

Not giving her a chance, Sol had already pressed his lips against hers.

She'd resist, Sol knew. She always has. Who wouldn't? But if there's one thing Sol had learned, it's that love is not a shy guess; it's an obligation for both to acknowledge their feelings, first to themselves, then to each other. Whether such feelings are accepted is not the question; the question has been and always will be whether he has the courage to tell her:

_I love you. And I have no regrets._

Perhaps she did not know the depths of his feelings, and perhaps she did not know the faith in his promises. But she did know enough to give him a chance, and, slowly, she embraced the heart that Sol laid bare, just as she slowly circled her arms around Sol's broad back, and nestled herself deeper within his arms.

The pitch that shrieked across the barren land jolted Sol's eyes wide open.

Snapping his back straight, Sol lifted his head just in time to catch the opening riff of a chaotic solo.

The guitar had awakened a beastly instinct within him. The notes had shattered his doldrums and roiled his heart to a furious beat. Every muscle within his body throbbed with anticipation. To the seasoned veteran, the acidic burning throughout his frame was the familiar taste of anxiety.

It was even more exciting to think that his opponent felt no less eager.

Against the full moon, I-no's silhouette was the epitome of fatal attraction. The guitar that never leaves her side was securely leveled in her left hand. With her right, she wagged a finger.

"Well, well, as rude as ever. Where's the applause?"

Sol reached for Fireseal.

"Hmm, guess I'll have to beat it out of you."

Almost effortlessly, I-no sailed into the air, and accelerated with surprising speed toward the waiting man.


	4. The midnight carnival

It was a carnival in every sense of the word.

The booming explosions and dazzling flashes enlivened the charred black monotony. The flurry of motions and zig-zagging of figures through dusty clouds challenged the sharpest of perceptions. Even the lofty moon, eager to claim witness to these bouts of prowess, caught but a teasing glimpse of the unearthly acrobats when they happened to burst into airy flights.

All the while, the silent silhouettes of the jagged land paid patient homage to the star performers who, despite the lack of a more enthusiastic audience, seemed to fully relish their roles.

"What's wrong big boy? Don't you want to come get me?"

Drunken with adrenaline, Sol had made savage, but compromised attacks. The excitement that flushed his body with raw power had also overridden the better judgment of his synapses. Inches wider than his usual strikes, Sol unleashed vengeance that cleaved the earth and tore through the air but failed to sever even a strand of hair from the elusive musician. His failure lied not in his will, but in his inability to recognize that, to the devilish woman, inches meant miles.

"Die!"

Holding his Fireseal in his trade-mark backhanded way, Sol jumped clean across seven yards of earth and threw his weight behind the blazing steel as he leaned heavily forward into a landing. The combined thrust of Sol's jump and his upper body rotation sent the great sword streaking through a crimson arc. Like a meteor, the blade buried itself into the earth. The eruption that ensued was a chaos of magnificence. Dust and debris surged high into the sky and escorted a 10-meter blaze as it carved indiscriminately through the hardened soil, incinerating rock and crust alike in its ravenous passage.

Like a dragon's tongue the flame raged across the plains, coursing its personal path of destruction and licking the dense airs. The queen of the skies, however, was long out of reach. Sol's unconventional gun flame had caught her by surprise, but she was more than able to evade with her superior agility. Vaulting to the side as Sol leaped to attach, I-no had floated out of harm's way by the time he landed. Knowing that Sol would bury his sword, I-no had found an opportunity to launch a counter as Sol leaned against the ground, his back arced and his head turned down.

The flash of green plasma was but a small spark compared to the rolling geyser Sol had unleashed. However, in the transience of its existence, the strange energy had fully served its capacity of launching I-no rapidly off its charged surface, and, by the time it dissipated like a rippled in a pond, I-no was well into her hurtling dive-bomb attack.

Stretching her harms overhead in the perfect extension of a streamlined curve, I-no had tucked her guitar tightly to her body and minimized her rotational inertia. In the span of split seconds, the master of air assault had transformed her figure into a blurry streak of insane velocity. The distance between I-no and Sol shortened dangerously quickly as the former accelerated the speed of her flight in exponential magnitude with every passing moment.

Beneath his mass of long locks, Sol smiled.

He had not struck in complete blind rage; rather, when Sol sank his blade, he had a plan to unearth it—with a mean surprise.

While I-no dodged his blast and rallied to launch her own, Sol had not changed his position above the ground. Underneath the surface, however, the half-prone figure has been relentlessly channeling energy into his blade, knowing that the charred crust would hide his intention well, smothering the orange glow underneath layers of black earth.

Trusting his gear enhancements, Sol had not looked up to betray an obvious attempt to gauge distance; rather, he listened intently as the murmur of the stagnant air grew to a shriek of unruly turbulence. Silently, as he calculated I-no's approach, Sol concentrated his strength to complete the charge to its last element, feeling, all the while, the anticipation and anxiety that precipitate every ambush.

"Sizzle…"

Although no smoke escaped the dense soil, Sol heard the tender whisper of fire. The blade had finally reached the verge of incinerating its earthly guise.

_Good._

Sol waited.

It wasn't long before I-no crossed the trigger, the invisible line beyond which any hope of unscathed recovery was doomed. I-no had irrevocably wagered on her attack, and Sol was ready to show his hand.

Like a flame flickering to life amid vast amounts of fuel, the buried blade's glow swelled to blatant glory in the blink of an eye. As fire erupted around his arm, Sol snapped his head up to lock in I-no's position. Just as he had guessed, I-no's twister was moments away and had no intention of turning back. It was time to kick in the final gear.

Pushing with all three of his limbs, Sol made full use of his half-prone, grounded position. His low profile had allowed him to pack more acceleration than a regular crouch and saved him the time of bending down. Within milliseconds, Sol had launched his attack.

"Volcanic VIPER!"

Freed at last from the suffocating earth and savagely engulfing the sweet night air, Sol's fire doubled its intensity and roared to meet I-no's shrieking twister.

"BOOM"

For the longest time since the guns of war had ceased their screams, a mighty shock wave reverberated its passage off the faces of distant cliffs. Dust and debris rose a mile into the sky and continued to drift for miles more. In an obscure corner of the plains, where the combatants flexed their might, a shallow crater two hundred yards across marred the once homogenous terrain of rock and soil.

Some twenty feet from the bottom, Sol stood solidly still, his right fist upon his hips and his left holding Fireseal by his side. The impact of the encounter had barely affected his recovery. However, it did not seem that he was unhurt.

_Damn bitch._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sol had guessed it all along. The nagging suspicion that I-no would never throw herself at any danger she had not insured to weather had always been lingering in his thoughts. Sol just simply refused to listen.

As he rolled his eyes to survey the fresh cuts along his arm and hands, Sol had little difficulty recognizing the culprit.

_Damn strings._

Sneaky as usual, I-no had taken the liberty of wounding coils of guitar string around her upper body as she rotated into her attack. As thin as fishing lines and spinning at mach speed, the wires formed a shield of blades and turned I-no into practically a diamond drill. As Sol's blade met I-no's attack, the woman had loosened her hold upon the wires, allowing them to fragment before Sol's sword and fly off like deadly shrapnel.

Thankfully, most of these were rendered harmless as they vaporized in Sol's intense plasma. The surviving few, flying further away from the center of the fireball, skimmed briefly through Sol's flesh. Even now, those wounds were closing rapidly as Sol's gear enhanced biobodies tended to the cuts.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Look at the mess you made."

Sitting on her floating guitar, her legs dangling in mid air, I-no didn't seem a bit concerned about her own state. Despite the barrier of guitar strings, Sol's liquid flames had found enough of an opening during the explosion to briefly sear through I-no's vest, cleanly severing an inch of leather off her right shoulder strap. The piece, normally hanging low to shamelessly expose I-no's cleavage, was now pivoting on the left strap while the right one dropped to precipitously low altitudes.

Sol didn't find I-no's taunting actions the least big suggestive. He knew better. Brushing aside her remark, Sol made his intent known.

"Did you take her?"

Instantly, I-no burst into a shrill laugh.

"Hahahahaha."

"You men are all the same. Here you are trying to undress a vulnerable girl, and already, you are thinking about another."

Sol did not blink.

"Answer me."

I-no slowly rolled her eyes as she purposefully brought her left leg over her right.

"You really are as dense as you look."

"…"

"Just can't let go, can you?"

"…"

"You've seen everything and still you refuse to believe."

"…"

"I suppose I can't blame you; you always were a pathetic piece of trash."

I-no's taunts troubled Sol not in the slightest. The witch was born with a foul mouth, and, from his experiences in the past, he has grown used to it. Sooner or later, he knew, she would get to the truth.

"Save Him the trouble and crawl back to your hole. He knows her even better than you do now, and soon her talents will be His."

Sol's eyes narrowed.

"Tell me…where"

I-no gazed at the motionless figure out of the corner of her eye. For the span of a few seconds, silence fell upon the pair.

"Hmm…"

I-no leaned forward, as if intending to make sure that her next statement can be clearly heard.

However, at the very last moment, as she opened her mouth, I-no changed her mind. Holding her gaze steady, she resumed her cross-legged position.

"I was going to kill you…"

"…"

"But now I think I'd rather enjoy watching you suffer…"

Knowing that Sol was at her mercy, I-no had no intention of giving him what he wanted and turned her attention instead to her ruined vest.

"You know, He tells me she's just like you…Isn't that sweet?"

Absent-mindedly, I-no twisted the broken strap between her fingers.

Sol tightened his grip on Fireseal.

"Tell me…where she is."

"Ooooh, or else what?"

"…"

She had him where she wanted him.

"You are as useless as you've always been. Why don't you do us all a favor and die?"

Sol's silence was as telling as it was unsatisfying. I-no had half expected such a reaction, and now she wondered if there had ever been a more boring man.

"I guess I'd be lying if I said I'd love to stay and chat…but I suppose I'll let you know this much before I leave."

I-no wondered if she saw his ears twitch.

"She won't remember a thing about you…I'll make sure of it."

Sol felt a surge of anger filling his chest.

_No…_

Sol didn't need long to straighten his thoughts. It was useless to pursue I-no; the witch was already rapidly shrinking into the distance.

_Useless…_

As much as he hates to admit it, Sol knew that I-no was right. The danger was very real, and time is never on his side.

_But then again…_

Sol had noticed it before, the unusual scent I-no carried. He had tried to trace the familiarity of the smell to its rightful source, but the intensity of battle allowed him no opportunity for wondering thoughts. He was, however, quick enough to snatch the severed leather strap as I-no was recovering from the climactic exchange.

_As dense as I look…_

Sol lifted his right hand to his face and gingerly unclenched his fist just enough to fit his nose between his fingers and his palm.

The strong smell of burnt leather filled his nostrils as he breathed deep from his hand.

_No good…_

Sol expected the burnt smell, but had hoped that something was spared.

_Try again…_

Emptying his lungs, Sol closed his eyes and held the piece closer to his nose as he breathed.

Having released the bulk of its vapor, the smell of seared cloth was less intense than before, and Sol could detect finer details.

_My…blood…_

_Sweat…_

…

There was a most elusive flavor, the faintest of hints that wafted wildly against Sol's senses. It drifted in and out of detection as Sol drew in more and more of the cloth and teased Sol to capture its unmistakable yet unpredictable presence.

Practically breathing through the cloth, Sol tried one more time. Knotting his brows in tense concentration, Sol focused his mind to react faultlessly to even the slightest element of distinction.

…

…

…_There!_

Like the lightening cutting through the drape of darkness, Sol's reflexes snapped in recognition. The ancient memory was indeed long buried in his mind, but he had not forgotten.

_I see…_

The tempest of emotions refused to be calmed by the mental dictation Sol had tried to impose. Anxiety, angst, hope, joy, and elements of humanly imaginable passion filled his mind.

Almost uncontrollably, Sol took his first step.

For once in three weeks, Sol knew his destination; all that's left for him to do is to find that forsaken place.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a year since I updated, and, judging from the shabby quality of the last chapter, you can tell I'm still getting used to the swing of things. Please try to help me out. I think I have a good idea of where this is going to go, and, hopefully, for my faithful readers, I will continue to post better and better stories.


	5. Chance Encounters

The wind that howled through the desert town was the harbinger of yet another sand storm. For the fourth time in six days, a cloud of yellow opacity melded the heavens and the earth, and all that remained distinguishable were the hollow windows and doors of long abandoned buildings, which stood yawning against the fury of the elements and beckoned the wearied traveler toward their dark confines.

As the residents scurried to their respective hovels, a heavily cloaked figure hunted the streets, attempting to engage, with utter futility, the attention of others.

"Excuse me sir, have you…"

The shrunken man did not even look at the picture Ky held out in his hand. Ducking easily under the knight's outstretched arm, the man sped by without breaking a pace and quickly disappeared into a dark alley before Ky could even finish his question.

"How rude…"

Turning halfway around, Ky spotted a shrouded figure that was approaching with surprising rapidity despite an apparent limp. Ky held Sol's picture ready as he paced to intercept the pedestrian. Giving himself more of a chance, he launched his inquiry while still yards away.

"Excuse me, I know you're in a hurry, but this won't take long. I'm a police officer and I'm looking for…"

As Ky drew closer, his eyes met with those of a middle-aged woman. In response to his words, the lady had returned a look of neither interest nor disregard, but a stare of such emptiness that Ky, for the few seconds that he had made contact with those hollow sights, had so lost himself in their desperate voids that he could not continue his speech.

"…that….I….uh…"

As the knight stammered to scramble his thoughts, the woman brushed past him and was soon swallowed by the thickening sand cloud.

A full minute after the woman disappeared, Ky breathed a deep sigh, partly of disappointment, and partly of relief.

"What is wrong with this town!"

He wondered aloud as he scanned his surroundings, finally becoming aware of the fact that only he has not yet secured a shelter in the face of the approaching storm.

The hectic search for an informant now turned into a frantic quest for a house as Ky scoured the streets for four walls and a roof. To his dismay, however, the majority of structures lacked one or more of the five vital components, and those that possessed all were securely protected by heavy, wooden doors.

"Good citizens! I am an officer of the law. Please open this door now!"

Ky paused between his sentences to pound his fist against the sturdy board.

"Please open at this moment! I am an officer of the law!"

The wind was rapidly drowning out Ky's voice. The raging gust screamed so loud that the knight felt his hand landing against the door, but heard almost no sound. If the resident did not allow him entry soon, Ky feared that he would be overwhelmed by the storm, unable to even hear his own pleas.

The door remained shut.

Backing away from the stubborn guardian, Ky tightened the straps of his coat and tucked his chin deep into his collars. Holding one hand over his crude mask and wrapping his other arm around the front of his torso, Ky squinted into the dusty clouds, hoping to distinguish some form or structure.

"…!"

At first Ky was unsure of his discovery. The silhouette appeared to be wafting between a state of visibility and one of obscurity. Knowing that the wind was not making his attempt any easier, Ky hastened toward his target, fiercely squinting into the belching sands as not to lose his way. To his relief, his find was not a hallucination, and was materializing gradually with every painful step.

"Almost there…"

The wind was howling so hard that Ky needed to lean a full thirty degrees against the onslaught in order to maintain his course. Even his eye lashes were insufficient protection now. Gathering his coat as best as he could with his left arm, Ky stretched his right hand before him and closed his eyes as he marched, and prayed.

**Thump**

Ky felt a fleeting moment of surprise as he made solid contact—with his foot.

"Waaahh…"

The knight had little time to think as he lifted his legs frantically, trying to catch up to the momentum his tripped foot had set loose. Stumbling wildly up the stony steps, Ky was an awkward sight of flailing arms and unwieldy legs. Steps, however, don't usually continue indefinitely, and often end at an entrance of sorts.

**Boom**

Ky was rudely reminded of this fact.

The rich, hollow sound of the struck door reverberated in perfect synchronization with the pain that was coursing through Ky's head.

"Gagh…."

The knight winced as he slowly climbed to his feet and pushed the heavy doors ajar. Physical exertion with a head injury never helps the pain, but the finding shelter is his first priority.

Squeezing tightly between the heavy doors, Ky pushed himself into the somber chamber, escaping at last the furious desert winds. To the wearied man, the chambers of the church, however dark, were far more inviting than the breath of the blasted lands.

Stumbling into a corridor, he hugged the nearest pillar and breathed deep sighs of relief. Quickly Ky took off his over coat, pounds heavier with sand, and shook off much of the dust. It was an interesting sight, to say the least, as the knight practically unburied himself. When the sands have at last dissipated, it was as if he had emerged, reborn, from a cloud of lazy vapors.

"Thank goodness."

As the sands settled to the stony floor, the calmness of the church, too, drifted into Ky's consciousness. He was able to see his surroundings better, now that he has had time to adjust to the dimness of the chamber, and he noticed that a corridor laid waiting before him.

Gathering his belongings, Ky stepped into the hall, hoping to find another soul.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

The only stirring was the ghostly chatter of echoes. Moments after the knight's words were uttered, his voice was returned from many dark corners. Overlapping and interchanging, the echoes orchestrated a barrage of haunting emulations before gradually yielding to the prevailing silence.

Accordingly, Ky decided not to repeat his latest outcry.

As he continued along the corridor, he noticed that the pillars were crafted in a style that was as strangely gothic as it was beautiful. It took a few minutes of recollection for the knight to put his fingers on the cause of his feelings of familiarity. Over a decade ago, when he was still training as a young scribe, Ky had served in the library of a prominent art collector. In his moments of leisure he, like many of the other young scribes, browsed through the only volumes that offered accompanying pictures—the architectural archives. It was there that he had first seen the elaborate carvings that adorned the pillars before his eyes. However, if he remembered correctly, the books he had read were documentations of the age of humanity that occurred before the Great War, and that could only mean…

"!"

As suddenly as the veil of darkness was lifted before his eyes, Ky was greeted by a sight most impressive. In his ponderings he had wondered through a long passage of stone pillars and now stood squarely beneath the vaulted threshold of an enormous hall.

The gothic arcs that braced the ceilings curved like ivory ribs into solid stone walls. Running full length along every rafter were reliefs of fabled warriors and priests. Small, yet intricately detailed gargoyles perched atop classic-cut pillars. The stones were well sanded and felt slightly inferior to marble upon Ky's fingers. Stalwart yet neatly sized, ageless limestone blocks formed the massive walls that held firmly in place, some twenty feet above the floor, magnificent stained glass windows that immortalized characters unknown in gloriously gothic hues. The light that streamed through them was filtered by the sandy storm, and covered everything in a dim, golden glow. Upon the center stage, against a backdrop of an enormous cross, stood an elaborate grand organ. The faultless brass organ pipes, several stories tall and wider than a man, reached straight into the ceiling like bony fingers, silently hailing the young knight's arrival.

Everything was perfect; from the absolute stillness to the obscure light, the sanctuary stood utterly defiant of time and space. Within its confines, death marked the celebration of an eternity and faded glory bathed in its own radiance of simmering, golden opacity.

Taken by this haunting beauty, Ky's voice forced his will.

"A grand cathedral…"

As he had suspected, the place was ancient indeed. He had knowledge of such a structure only because he remembered it being chronicled in the architectural archives as the pinnacle of the Old Age zeal.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Like an unreal materialization of his own imagination, a voice resounded from a source unknown.

Spinning wildly around, Ky sought the owner of those words. The vast chamber, however, has easily rendered his efforts useless with its echoes, and all the knight saw were the grinning eyes of spying gargoyles.

"Who was that? Identify yourself!"

From the way Ky danced in circles, it was clear that the knight was not used to speaking to invisible beings.

"Hmm…Are you sure you want to know?"

The voice half chuckled with a tone of mild amusement.

"In the name of the law, I order you to show yourself!"

The name of the law didn't really mean much for all the criminals Ky has encountered, but, as an officer, it was his duty.

"Oh? An officer of the law."

There was a slight pause.

"Tell me…officer…how do you intend to confront a man you cannot see?"

Like the hunter before the prey, it was obvious who held the cards long before the chase even began.

"I…I will find you. You can't hide!"

"Hahahahahahahaha."

Clearly Ky's demands were not taken seriously.

"Proclaiming justice, when you don't even know my name. You are about as naïve as they come."

"Don't be so quick to judge me stranger. Face me like a man!"

Ky's words provoked yet another string of laughter. When the echoes have settled, the voice that returned made no attempt to conceal the contemptuous taunt in its tone.

"What if…officer…I am not _a man_?"

"!..."

Ky had no ready answer for the question for which he had no ready prediction. His mind was barraged by his own fears and doubts as he twirled around, attempting, yet again in vain, to catch the mysterious speaker.

**Crack**

The crisp, sharp snap of fingers shot through the thick tension and galvanized Ky's stressed nerves. Guided more by reflex than will, the knight spun toward the sound and stared into the lofty ceilings where the disturbance clearly took place.

There, perched atop a broad beam, was a neatly dressed man. The pressed pants and aristocratic blazers were completely wrinkle-free in their grey hued impeccability. The shiny shoes that peeked over the edge of the beam reflected even the yellow dimness of the room. It was difficult to see the details of his shirt from Ky's distance, but judging from the sharp contrast his collars and cuffs made against his suit Ky knew that the man sported a classic white dress shirt. Almost everything about the man, from the leather soles to the round spectacles, radiated an aura of conservative nobility; the only exceptional features were unconventionally forward style in which he wore his hair and the large, strange tie which, of all things, seemed to resemble an 18th century French royalty cross.

"Good boy."

With the words barely settled in the air, the man had disappeared. Ky could swear that he saw a shadowy cape swallowing the man in the blink of an eye.

**Tzzzz**

Turning immediately around to face the sudden noise, the knight discovered that the man had, somehow, teleported to an empty bench some 10 feet away and was leisurely holding a burning match to the seasoned hickory pipe that dangled from his lips.

"How…!"

The man did not even look at Ky's bewildered face as he drew in the aroma of aged tobacco. As he exhaled, he gave the knight a lazy glance out of the corner of his eye.

"Who are you?"

Ky had taken his hint and changed the course of his inquiry.

"Good. Introductions first."

Standing up, the mysterious man squarely faced Ky. Although not of a physically impressive stature, there was something about him that commanded an undeniable aura of authority.

"My name is Slayer."

Placing his right hand over his belt, the man made a polite nod.

"I am Officer Ky Kiske."

The knight did not try to replicate Slayer's strange bow.

"Very good. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although, I must say, there are fewer and fewer of your kind making their rounds."

As he spoke, Slayer leaned back against a pillar and slid his left hand into his pocket.

"My kind?"

"Crusaders. You are one of them are you not?"

"Yes…well…yes."

"Why are you so hesitant?"

"Well, it's a long story."

"Hmm…"

Slayer had paused, but did not seem disengaged by Ky's disinterest.

"May I then ask of you the permission to share this story? It just so happens that I am a keen collector of history; please do forgive my blunt intrusion."

With a half sigh, Ky relaxed his shoulders and seated himself upon a near-by bench.

"Well, I was initiated into the Sacred Order of Holy Knights several years ago during the Great War. We were the defenders of humanity, and we fought the gear commander Justice, who threatened to annihilate mankind with his gear army."

Ky paused a moment and looked to the windows, as if remembering the past moments of battle.

"It was a difficult war. The gears had long overrun the weak human defenses. The technology that man had come to depend upon could not stop the terrifying weapons that were born of its own cradle. So many have died…"

Ky's voice trailed off as he lowered his eyes.

"But…we held our ground. We were the last hope, and we could not afford to lose. My mentor, Kilff Underson, was the commander of the knights, and he had found a way to fight back. The gears may have been perfected by technology, but they knew little of the ways of magic. The brotherhood had been the sworn protectors of the archaic practices of the occult so that no one may harness energy so beyond mortal comprehension and resistance that it had been termed "magic." The answer, you see, was precisely this magic. Although the gears had been perfected by human technology, they could not compare to the powers that defied reason. The Holy Knights, like myself, trained in these practices, and we were able to harness the energy and secure victory with weapons of legendary strength."

"Bravo!"

Slayer's tone was a tad insincere. It was as if he held a less optimistic view for the knights' glorious victory.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, please continue."

He quickly caught himself and extended his apology with a slight smile. Ky didn't seem to mind.

"After Justice's defeat, much of the Earth lied in smoldering rubble, and we knew that our work was far from being done. Rallying our forces, we became the enforcers of civilization, and helped rebuild and restore order to the ruined nations. The Sacred Order was disbanded to facilitate this process, and I, along with other crusaders, put away our war attire and became uniformed policemen."

At this point Slayer raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Officer, if I may ask, why is it then that you now don the armor of a crusader?"

Ky made a subconscious examination of his clothes before replying.

"That…is the reason for my earlier uncertainty. Recently, one of our outposts was attacked. I…could not stop the perpetrators…but I did discover the reason for their attack. For security reasons, I cannot spare every detail, but it's suffice to say that time has proven to be a greater enemy than Justice ever was! I must stop it before it's too late, and that's why I travel again as a crusader. Even so, I now face stronger foes, and I can only pray that I will unlock the might of the ancient weapons…"

"Like the one at your side?"

Slayer gestured toward the hilt of Thunderseal that was jutting forth from Ky's belt.

"Yes. This sword is one of the greatest treasures of the Order. It's name is Thunderseal, and it is the essence of the bolts that sear heaven and earth. There are others like this one. Among them, Dragonslayer, a great blade capable of killing a dragon in one strike, was the gift given to my mentor Kilff Underson for his loyalty and service to the brotherhood. Another, Fireseal, was rumored to have been forged in the heart of the Earth, and thus carried the burning passion of cosmic scales. But it was…stolen…"

"Oh? How is it that the Order could stop Justice but failed to guard its most sacred treasures?"

"The Order did not fail! What failed was the heart of men. It was no ordinary thief that took Fireseal. It was a fallen knight, a brother who could not resist the corruption of power, that took the sword to satisfy his greed…Here."

Ky held out a picture of Sol.

"That is the man, the criminal. It is to find him that I embarked upon this journey. Please, do you have any clues as to his whereabouts?"

As Slayer gazed slowly at the picture, his expression changed not in the slightest.

"You seek him to recover your sword?"

"No, I seek him because he holds the answers to my questions."

"Hmm…"

Slayer took a long look at the young man before him. He knew the knight had the determination to pursue his quest, and that is why he must reply.

"Seek no further, crusader, for you are not ready."

Ky was stunned.

"Not…ready…?"

"And even if you were to find Sol, you would only be doing yourself a disservice."

"How do you know his…"

"Goodbye knight, when you wake up, you will do as I say, if you truly wish to serve mankind."

The light hit Ky's eyes even before the sound propagated through the room. In what could not have been more than a flash, the figures before him leapt through vast frames of motion and slowed finally to allow the knight to see that the man who was casually standing before him some nanoseconds ago was now bent forwards, his fist extended the full length of his arm and blocked from view by a gigantic blade. In that fraction of a blink of an eye, Ky felt that time had slowed down as he observed the air around Slayer's striking arm rippled in propagation, distorting even the passage of light in its wake.

**Boom**

The small sonic boom that followed Slayer's mach punch violently blew time into normal passage. As Ky squinted against the sudden burst of air current, he saw clearly what had happened.

Slayer had aimed directly for Ky's stomach. The punch, faster than even the speed of sound, would have solidly knocked the knight into an unconscious state without him even having the time to close his eyes. However, Slayer's opponent had been one step faster and had stubbornly halted the attacker's fist behind the broad blade of Dragonslayer.

Slayer stood up and adjusted his blazer, it seemed that smashing his knuckles at supersonic speed into imbued steel dazed the man not in the slightest.

Kliff, too, retracted his weapon.

"What you say is true."

The old man spoke with surprising resonance.

"But to send him back would be a true mistake."

Standing straight, Kliff was a good foot shorter than the blade he held, but his eyes exuded such piercing vigor that even the legendary Dragonslayer shone but a timid declaration of strength in comparison.

"Kliff…!"

Ky, thoroughly confused, barely managed to utter the name of his mentor before he was stopped in mid speech by the open palm Kliff suddenly directed toward his position.

Without even looking at Ky, Kliff continued to address the bespectacled gentleman.

"Slayer, you have the gift of immortality, but have you lived so long as to have become blind to the nobility of mortals."

Slayer's right hand was rising slowly to meet his face. He knew what was coming.

"This boy," Kliff pointed toward Ky, "is sincere in his desire to serve. It was not simply his strength that defeated Justice, but his will; his will had bound the mighty Thunderseal to his side. Do you honestly believe that for him hope should shine no more?"

Slayer's face was in his right hand and his elbow rested on his waist. The lecture was going into full swing.

"When you were but a young one, you, too, had ambitions, and you, too, had desires to fulfill. When you came to me for guidance and for forgiveness, I never failed to show you His Grace. No one should ever be forgotten and no request should ever be denied an audience. You, of all people, should know this."

Slayer patiently pursed his lips.

"When you founded the Guild, you had made it your mission to train the talents of gifted ones into good service. You gave them confidence in their abilities; you taught them finesse in their skills, above all, you nurtured their will and helped them define the purpose of their struggles."

Kliff paused as he redirected his finger from Ky to Slayer.

"You gave them hope."

Slayer was now scratching his beard while admiring the ceiling.

"How can then you deny it to this brilliant soul! It is your obligation, your duty, to teach him the will of the strong and…"

"…and show him the path of the righteous."

Slayer's booming words brought the ageless motto to its conclusion.

"I did not mean disrespect by interrupting, but I had hoped to clear up one thing before you continued for…well…unbearable lengths."

Slayer looked at the two men before him, making sure he had their full attention before continuing.

"I intended to train this young knight. He had proven his integrity when he had responded with truth and sincerity to my inquiries. All I needed…" he had paused to gesture to a distant wall, "…was for you, my old friend, to lend me your authority."

Ky peeked anxiously at Kliff.

"What does he mean, father?"

"What I mean, crusader, is that the time has come for you to learn the truth. Old man, you heard our conversation, you know what he has seen. He has stumbled upon a most guarded secret, and it's now vital that he learns its entirety."

"You," Slayer turned to Ky, "will face dangers the likes of which you've never seen, and you must know the truth about the enemy you face before you challenge the course of destruction. However, I could not expect you to believe a stranger, so I invited you old mentor out of his cozy little alcove."

"You've been…following me?"

The confused knight directed his question toward the old man.

"Yes," Kliff said with a slight sigh, "when I saw what happened at that outpost, I knew you had found that file; so I hurried to trace you steps, hoping to catch you in time. When I lost my way in the sand storm, I come to this old church. I didn't know you, too, were here, but when I arrived, I saw you conversing with Slayer, so I decided to listen before intruding."

Slayer held his hands up with a slight smile.

"Excellent. We're answering questions already. Now, tell us what you know already, crusader, and we will grant you knowledge."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know people probably wanted to see what happened with Sol, I was dying to keep writing about him, too, but Ky will come into play, and I needed to devote some time to him to help clear up some plot. Some big revealers are just around the corner, but, of course, that won't be everything… Anyways, I wonder how many people actually read this, am I going too slow or something? Can people at least comment and just say "I read this" so I know I'm getting some readership? I had envisioned the story to be fun, action packed, but also containing a dose of thought, a look into the minds of warriors who carried outstanding burdens. It would've been easier if I made it totally plot and fights and people going crazy, but then it would be meaningless to me. I hope you can bear with me; I promise that some good stuff will be come up! Thanks to Illuminet, who's been consistently commenting. You keep me going. I just really hope others will join in, too. Few words can mean so much…sob


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